Guilt
by dfriendly
Summary: Arthur still carries the guilt of Tom’s death and talks to Gwen. Set after 2x07, so spoilers for that episode.


**Title: **Guilt 

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur

**Rating: **G

**Word Count:** 829

**Spoilers:** 2x07

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_ or its characters. If I did… it would be 3 hours long and be primarily A/G.

**Summary: **Arthur still carries the guilt of Tom's death and talks to Gwen. Set after 2x07, so spoilers for that episode.

**A/N:** You know how sometimes you just _have_ to write something? Damn plotbunnies. They interfere with your life and postpone your other fics.

POV is 3rd person omnipotent (which I don't usually do, I'm pretty sure), but I just had to show what they were both thinking.

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After the day – the entire _week_ – Arthur and the rest of Camelot had, he should feel relieved.

But instead there was something clawing unpleasantly at his stomach while he lay in bed. There was no doubt in his mind as to what that feeling was from.

_Or you can stand by and watch an innocent man die. You did it once before with my father. _

He did not get much sleep that night.

---

Gwen looked up at the soft rapping on Morgana's open door, seeing the prince hovering in the entrance.

"Guinevere."

Gwen walked around the bed – which she had been making – to greet him. "And what brings you here, sire?"

She had almost slipped and called him by name, which was a bad habit to get into given their stations. That should really only be saved for emergencies, when she needs to get his attention.

"It's about what you said yesterday," he answered, stepping into the room. He placed his arms behind his back, the way he often does when standing in front of his father in court. "About… your father."

"I'm sorry, sire. It was low of me to have brought that up," she rushed. She hadn't done it to hurt him.

"No, Guinevere. You were right to do so." He lowered his head a fraction, his voice and manner no longer as princely, but soft and raw. "I tried to forget about it, but I… I still feel guilt."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault, sire."

"Which I have told myself, many times, Guinevere. But it's a poor excuse. And I don't know which is worse: that I _should_ have done something for your father and I _didn't_, or that if I had –" he teetered momentarily on the words _cared for you_, "if I had _known_ you then the way I do now, I might have tried harder to save him. When that shouldn't matter. I should put equal efforts in for all people accused. And there have been many of which I fear were as innocent as Gaius and your father. But for them I have done nothing and they have died, their loved ones suffering the way you do."

Gwen felt tears beginning to prickle behind her eyes at his words, proud of his revelation but sorry for his remorse. "You mustn't worry about me, sire."

"And yet I do, Guinevere. And now I try to think of how I could possibly make it up to you, if even such a thing were possible."

She glanced to the side before meeting his eyes again. "I merely want you to be king. A good, just king."

"That is all you ask for? All you want?" He stepped forward, closing the distance between their bodies to be but a foot apart.

Gwen sucked in a shaky breath, swallowing as she kept her eyes on his.

_And I want you_, they both imagined her saying.

"That is all I could ever ask for."

They both waited in silence, their chests throbbing painfully.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"You told me that once before, sire."

"Before it was my condolences, now it is an apology."

She wet her lips carefully. "Thank you, Arthur."

He nodded slowly, wondering why he didn't feel much better.

"I have never blamed you," she added.

"Well, I have blamed myself."

Gwen reached out to touch his arm. "You shouldn't." She saw his eyes flit to where her fingers touched him but otherwise keep her gaze. Gwen considered removing her hand, but she didn't. "And your inaction has been forgiven. One day your actions as king will make up for the wrongs in Camelot's past."

Arthur looked to his feet. "How do you know?" he asked quietly.

Gwen sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. "Because I have faith. And every day that your actions prove the goodness of your heart, my faith in you grows stronger. Days like yesterday, when you showed yourself as the type of man I want as king one day."

Arthur's eyes had slowly risen back to her face as she spoke and stayed there long after she was done. It was then her embarrassed realization that her hand still touched his arm and her drawing it back from him that he was compelled to speak.

"You're not _only_ a servant, Guinevere. You are much more than that. You are…" He paused, his own forming smile bittersweet. '_She can't be your friend, let alone anything else.' Well damn that. There is no denying this much._ "A friend."

Her own smile became hesitant – perhaps even disbelieving, although he hoped that wasn't the case. "Thank you," she whispered.

Not knowing what else to say, he finally dismissed himself with a nod. "Good day, Guinevere."

"Good day, –" she began to curtsy, before thinking of their 'friendship.' "…Arthur."

What she did not see was his smile once he turned. He rather liked the way she said his name.


End file.
